


Impregnation 7 - Endgame

by Moire (AlessNox)



Series: Molly's Little Helpers [7]
Category: Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Passion, Restraint, Sex, Teasing, a bit of angst, but a happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-22 10:28:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15579951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlessNox/pseuds/Moire
Summary: They started this game for Molly. But in the end, they needed it for themselves.





	1. Chapter 1

John turned the key in the lock of Molly's apartment and let himself in. Sherlock followed behind. They hadn't talked much at all since the previous week when John had found Sherlock getting Molly off, his tongue inside her. John could hardly get the image out of his mind. His face covered with cum, the indistinct bulge in his trousers. John took his coat off and tossed it down on the couch. Sherlock walked past him and hung his up in the closet.

John looked around at the empty flat.

"Are we early?" he said. “Perhaps they've gone on to the bedroom."

He walked through the flat into the darkened bedroom. Sherlock followed, standing in the dark as he pulled out his phone, and made a call.

They waited while it rang.

"Hello?"

"Molly, we're in your flat. Did you change the time?"

"Oh my, did I forget to tell you? I have an appointment with my gynecologist. This was the only time they had, and I couldn't miss it. Not after all of the work that you and the others were doing."

"I see. We'll be going then."

"Please don't. I'll want you to know the result. Stay there, watch something on the telly. I'll cook for you when I get back. Is John there as well?"

"Yes, Molly, I'm here," John said leaning over the phone.

"I’m really sorry. I apologize for not telling you earlier about the change. I meant to but..."

"There's nothing to apologize for Molly."

"You will stay won't you? Let me thank you for everything? You'll make sure Sherlock doesn't just walk off won't you?"

"Well, I don't know how to do that."

"Yes, you do. Just talk to him. Get him to talk to you. Ask him about the experiment we were doing last week. I'm sure he'll talk your ear off."

"- MISS HOOPER" a voice called over the phone.

"That's me. I must go, but please, wait for me. Ta!"

"Ta!" John said leaning over Sherlock's arm as he spoke into the phone. Then he looked up at Sherlock, and stood straight again. Sherlock's eyes were boring into his as if he were trying to read his mind. John looked away sighing heavily as he looked around the dark room.

“I should have known she was gone by this bedroom,” John said. “She always prepares so carefully for every session.” He walked over to the bed and picked up a blue stuffed bear. He smiled squeezing it before lying it down beside her pillow.

Sherlock's silhouette was outlined by the light from the door. He was tall and still, and he stared straight toward John. John had been standing in that very place last week when Sherlock had looked up and…

_Sherlock's mouth had been wide and soft and wet._

_"Jo-hn" he'd said eyes bright as they turned to him._

_Molly's legs were wrapped around his neck._

_Sherlock's chin glistening from her juices as he smiled._

_John had gone hard looking at them only to realize...only to learn, that he was no longer needed._

John pushed past Sherlock through to the hall. He walked into the living room toward the front door. Then he turned. Molly had asked him to stay. He walked toward the kitchen, finally settling on pacing back and forth in front of the telly.

"What are we supposed to do for the time it will take her to finish? Maybe we should just go."

"No, John. She wants to tell us her results. We could watch telly?"

"It's probably all rubbish."

"It's always rubbish, but you seem to enjoy it anyway."

"Enjoy...well you'd know all about enjoying things, wouldn't you?"

"What do you mean?" Sherlock asked. He was standing at the edge of the room having just entered from the hallway.

"It's just...last week you appeared to be really enjoying yourself with Molly."

"Last week? But wasn't that… isn't that exactly what you said I should do? Weren't you the one who told me that I should 'do the deed' myself?"

"Yeah, all right," John said picking up the remote and tossing himself down on the couch. Sherlock walked across the room and sat down beside him. John could feel his warmth despite the ten centimeter distance between them. He tugged at his collar trying not to look out of the corner of his eye at how transparent Sherlock's shirt was.

"John?"

He turned his head away, embarrassed. "Yes, Sherlock."

"Are you going to turn on the telly?"

He faced him then and then swallowed, embarrassed. "Yeah, of course."

Then he sat back on the couch, remote resting forgotten in his hand.

"John."

"Yeah?"

"You still haven't turned it on."

"Oh yeah!" he said clicking the switch to turn the telly on, a news show came up. He sat up for a moment hoping for a crime report, but it was only the weather.

John sat back again, and the memory of Sherlock's wet mouth made him furrow his brow.

"John. Is something wrong?"

"No. Why would you think that?"

Sherlock raised one eyebrow. John stared at his lips and then turned away. He clicked off the telly then and rose to his feet pacing once again.

Sherlock followed him with his eyes as he paced across the room. John walked back and forth, back and forth, squeezing the remote until he noticed he was bending it, then he placed it down on one of the tables. Sherlock stared, but said nothing.

John turned to face him. "So...do you love her?"

"What? Who?"

"Molly. I thought it was Irene you loved, but then when I saw you last week, it seemed... well, do you?"

"Do I...what?"

"Do you love Molly Hooper?"

Sherlock narrowed his eyes and stared up at John, confusion all over his face, "I... guess so?"

John sucked in a breath, and then nodded his head. "Fine, that's fine then. She wanted your child. She's always wanted you, and if you want her too, then that's fine. Good even."

John nodded. Then he put his hands on his hips and frowned down at the floor.

Sherlock stared. "John, what's wrong?"

"Nothing! Nothing. It's fine," he said before picking up his coat and heading for the door.

"I thought we were going to wait for Molly?"

John stopped with one hand on the door handle. "Molly, oh right." He turned back and looked around at everything but Sherlock. Then he draped his coat carefully over a chair before leaning on it while rubbing his thigh with his left hand.

Sherlock rose to his feet. "Is your leg hurting again?"

"No. No. Not much. I just," He reached up to scratch at his forehead as Sherlock bent down over him. "I just didn't expect you...You were always so self contained. And you swore this wasn't your area. But then... that first time it looked like you wanted... like you wanted me, but I was mistaken."

"John."

"Your libido... Sometimes a person spends a long time celibate, and a sexual experience will sort of jump start them so they'll want it all of the time, but it doesn't mean... it doesn't mean anything.”

"John, does my having sex with Molly alone bother you?"

"No, no it does not," he said stepping back, and shaking his head.

Sherlock reached out and lifted John’s chin so that he stared into his eyes. John gritted his teeth at the touch, the corner of his eye twitching as he stared back.

"You're upset, about last week. You're upset that you weren't here, that it was only me and Molly."

"I didn't say that!"

"You didn't deny it either."

"It doesn't matter! None of it matters anymore. All of this began because Molly needed you to… she wanted to be…And if she's pregnant, then it's accomplished, it's over. And if she's not... well, you love her now, and the two of you can be together, and it's all fine. Our meetings will end, and I can just... find other things to do with my time. You know what? You don't need me here. Tell Molly I had an appointment or something. You wait for her. She'll be happier with just you. I'll just go."

John picked up his coat again, but before he could reach the door Sherlock laid a hand on his shoulder.

"John wait. I think you misunderstood what you saw. That was an experiment."

"An experiment? What kind?"

"To find all the different types of orgasm a female can have."

"There's more than one type?"

"John, I'm ashamed of you. You're a doctor!"

"I never really researched it medically. It's not my field."

"But all of your girlfriends…."

"I sort of… braved it out on my own. Only someone like you would look up the papers on it."

"Someone, like me?"

"Yeah."

"But John, there is no one else like me."

John smiled, and then Sherlock laughed. Then both of them were laughing, the tension suddenly gone.

John leaned on his knees, and Sherlock bent down to look at his face. Then John reached out, lifting his hand to touch Sherlock's shoulder.

”I missed you,” John said straightening up. He took his hand off of Sherlock’s shoulder, but Sherlock grabbed it.

"And I missed you, John. Last time. I wanted you here, but...” Sherlock sneered. “You had your own experiment to 'brave out'. What was her name again?" He dropped John’s hand.

“I was being polite.”

”Oh? I haven’t heard that euphemism for sex yet. You are always quite polite to the ladies.”

”You have no room to talk. You were being very polite to Molly when I walked in. That must have been some etiquette book you were reading if it made Molly scream that loud.”

”John, can we please drop the metaphor? It’s becoming disturbing.”

”You brought it up.”

”And the papers were quite ordinary sex research. You are the doctor, I thought that you would have kept up to date...”

John took a step closer. "So about those papers. Were any of them about having sex with men?"

"Some were. Men are easier to stimulate, but you wouldn't know much about that would you John? That not being an area of interest for you."

John raised his chin. His eyes narrowing in challenge as he said, "Are you implying that you are better at sex with men than I am? You who had virtually no experience before last month?"

"Better than you who can't see a man if there is a woman in the room."

"It's not like you see them either. I didn't think you… liked men that way."

"How can you say that when we've been having sex together for weeks?"

"I don't know, I just thought this was something you did for the experience. It’s not like you are..."

"It's not like I'm what? Human? Did you think I don't have emotions? I suppose I should have known from the number of times you've called me a robot, or Spock, or a machine!"

Sherlock turned away. He walked into the hall and opened the closet door reaching for his coat. John's hand on his arm stopped him.

"No, Sherlock. I know you have emotions. I know you...feel things. But, you never seemed to want to..."

"Didn't I?” Sherlock said as their eyes met. “You never were very observant, John, but this level of blindness borders on idiocy." Sherlock turned to face him, and John swallowed.

"I missed you, John. Not just last week." Sherlock placed his long fingered hands on John's muscled upper arms and held him firmly. "I have been missing you now, for years. Wanting you."

John licked his lips as he stared into Sherlock's eyes. "Wanting what from me?"

"What do you think?" Sherlock's head lowered, until their faces were centimeter's apart, their breaths mingling, their hearts racing.

"I never know what you want," John said.

"Idiot," Sherlock said, and then he kissed him.


	2. Chapter 2

A kiss.

Soft, so soft. Barely a touch of lips. Hardly felt, by his nerves, but his entire body rocked.

John parted his lips, and the tip of his tongue stroked Sherlock's bottom lip. Then their mouths were on each other and John closed his eyes. Standing on the balls of his feet to get closer. Sherlock's fingers were digging into his arms, and John reached out and took his slender waist into his hands. The smooth fabric of his coat was warm with the heat his body radiated. John couldn't wait to get the coat off of him, but there were more pressing matters at hand.

John opened his mouth, forcing Sherlock's lips apart with the pressure as he thrust his tongue inside the warm wetness. He remembered how it had looked dripping with Molly's cum. He needed more of that mouth. He wanted to nest inside.  He stroked Sherlock's tongue with his, pushing his body forward until the hardening bulge below his waist touched Sherlock's thigh. Sherlock groaned, releasing John's arms as he caressed his back. This gave John the freedom to thread his fingers through Sherlock's curls, pulling him down to get better access to his lips and mouth. He explored their limits with his tongue, working his mouth in circles to cover it all.

He tugged down on Sherlock, and Sherlock bent over him like a willow branch. Then he dropped to his knees, head suddenly lower than John's as his hands reached to John's belt, questioningly. John smiled and nodded.

Short as John was in stature, he made up for it in other ways. His cock was something he had never needed to be ashamed of. He could not help but notice the admiration that Sherlock had shown for it, even before he'd first seen it. He had made jokes about John's stance, and his walk, reveling at the perceived size of it even though it was only a guess. But ever since Sherlock had seen him unclothed, he seemed obsessed with it. John would catch him looking at the oddest times: As he was reading a book, when he was taking off his coat, even at crime scenes. Now Sherlock opened his trousers with the excitement of a child at Christmas unwrapping presents. He cupped his hands over John's pants tracing the outline.

John couldn't help but grin at the boyishness of his expression.

"So then. Are you going to show me how good of a reader you are?"

"Excuse me," he said looking up, his hands still stroking the cotton.

"All of those scientific papers you read about giving head."

"Actually, I didn't read any about that," Sherlock said. "I guess I'll have to... brave it out," he said before pulling down the band of John's pants and letting the monster fall out.

Sherlock pulled John's pant's and trousers down below his knees, and then immediately took the tip of John's cock into his mouth. John staggered back, and would have fallen if Sherlock's huge hands had not come up to hold firmly onto his buttocks. His tongue rolled around the corolla and John cried out. He felt his cock rising, and growing, and pushing out. Sherlock was there. His lips stroking the side of it. His tongue flipping across John's frenulum. His chin rolling across his balls. John grabbed Sherlock's shoulders to steady himself, and Sherlock pushed forward taking John completely into his mouth.

It was a shock, even though Sherlock had done it before, that had been nothing to the ferocity with which Sherlock seemed be devouring John now. John shook and shuddered, barely able to stay on his feet as Sherlock's mouth widened and swallowed him whole. Never had he found a woman with a mouth large enough to do it. Sherlock could, though the tip must be in the top of his throat. Sherlock's tongue rolled along the bottom of him, and John cursed. He could feel the way Sherlock smiled at that, his lips turning up, stroking the base of his cock. John fell forward, catching himself by his elbows. Sherlock was under him, he was lying on his back, but he hadn't let go of John's bottom.

"Christ!" John said "Oh Christ in heaven, you are amazing Sherlock. Amazing!"

And Sherlock smiled again before his fingers dug into John's flesh as he pulled himself up and back stroking John's cock with his lips from base to tip. John was imprisoned. He was physically unable to move away from the magnificent wetness of that mouth. The power of it. He tensed, and then released, his legs went limp, and Sherlock rolled him over onto his back, placing his hands on John's thighs as he moved up and down pulling the skin with his lips, grazing the foreskin with his teeth. It was as if the pressure of his lips were causing John's balls to suck back inside his body. John pounded his head on the floor, his feet trapped by the trousers still gripping his ankles as he thrust up into Sherlock's mouth crying out as his come splattered on Sherlock's ear and flowed down his neck onto that impossibly thin white shirt, that John still wanted to tear off of Sherlock's body.

After a long while where his vision seemed to be filled with dots, John looked up at Sherlock to see him beautiful and cum-covered, smirking down at him with a self-satisfied smile. John was lying on his back in the hallway, halfway between the open closet and Molly's bedroom. Sherlock leaned over him. his eyes were dark, his chest was red, and his smile was wide.

"So, do you still think I'm not good with men?" he said.

John fought to catch his breath. "Oh you're good, you're very good. I never said that you were bad, Sherlock. I only said that I thought I could do better."

Sherlock raised his eyebrows, his eyes brightening as he squeezed the base of John's cock.

"That, John, is the kind of claim you have to prove!"


	3. Chapter 3

John kicked off the clothes bunched around his ankles. He pulled his jumper and shirt off, and when Sherlock went to do the same, he stopped him. John led Sherlock into Molly's darkened bedroom, and then clicked on one lamp as he pulled Sherlock close with a hand on his waist. Then he undid the button to Sherlock's coat with his left hand, as his right hand roamed across the sheer fabric of his shirt. He rolled his finger around Sherlock's right nipple, and Sherlock sucked in a breath.

John reached up and slowly removed Sherlock's suit coat.

Sherlock was breathing shallowly now, John could see the rising and falling of his skin, the pulsing of the artery in his throat. He could see the flush in his skin even through the white of his shirt. John reached up and undid Sherlock's top button.

"Faster!" Sherlock said reaching up to undo the next button himself, but John grabbed his wrist and held firm as he leaned over and huffed at Sherlock's left nipple before sucking on it through his shirt.

Sherlock arched his back, wiggling and, fighting to free his hand. John could clearly see the lump in Sherlock's trousers as he stepped back until the backs of his knees had hit the bed.

"Steady there, steady," John said stroking the side of Sherlock's torso as he undid another button. Then John leaned forward to suck a mark into Sherlock's newly exposed skin.

Sherlock's body bucked, and he fell back on the bed. John rubbed his right hand across Sherlock's chest. His left still gripped Sherlock's wrist, as Sherlock slid across the surface of Molly's duvet. John stopped his movement by applying pressure to his hip with one hand while he pulled Sherlock's captured hand up against his bare chest, before bending over and undoing Sherlock's next button with his lips and tongue.

Sherlock moaned loudly. He had already kicked off his shoes, and he lifted his leg, stroking John's hairy calf with his sock. John released Sherlock's hand and grabbed his thigh, pulling it up high and stroking the length of it through the smooth trousers with his right hand, while his left hand undid the rest of the buttons on Sherlock's shirt parting them to expose the smooth skin below.

Sherlock stroked John's chest, Spreading his fingers through the pale hairs. They were darker than the ones on his head, but there were a few grey ones scattered throughout.

John was self-conscious about the grey, but Sherlock loved the way that John's hairs had so many colors and textures. He wanted to examine every single one of them, looking all over his body. He had never thought that he would get have chance to do it, but now...

John reached down and sucked Sherlock's other nipple, and his mind went blank. Suddenly there was no logic, no thoughts, there was only sensation, skin, wetness, and stroking, and these clothes he had on were much too tight.

Sherlock reached for his belt to find his wrist imprisoned again. He fought against it, but John lifted Sherlock's wrists over his head and held them firmly against the bed as he bent down to suck Sherlock's neck.

Sherlock's neck was long.

In school they had compared him to a horse, and a giraffe, but he had defied them all, unbuttoning his shirts to make his neck look even longer, to make it stand out.

John had seemed to like it. He looked at it quite a lot, but Sherlock had never guessed why he had been staring until he felt the way John licked and sucked it, as if he had been waiting his whole life to do it.

John's groin rolled up and down against Sherlock's still clothed thigh, already leaking a bit as he nipped and sucked Sherlock's skin.

The sensation of John's lips and teeth were so intense. Sherlock could hardly stand it! He flushed from his navel to his forehead. He rolled and bucked, but that made John hold on tighter, riding him, pushing him down, rubbing their groins together until Sherlock thought he might come in his pants right then.

 

"Fuck me!" Sherlock said, not knowing he had said it until it had passed his lips. Then John lifted his head and stared into his eyes, both of them surprised.

Then John was reaching for his belt. Sherlock pushed off his socks and together they tore off the rest of his clothing. They looked around for the lubricant, but it wasn't there. Molly hadn't planned for sex today.

"The bathroom," Sherlock said, and John rose to his feet and ran.

Sherlock followed, and together they searched the cabinets until they found the baby warmer with the bottles of medical grade lubricant under the sink.

Sherlock took a bottle and squirted it all over his hand before bending over and reaching down to stick his long fingertip into his hole. John stared in shock as Sherlock lifted one leg onto the toilet seat and looked into the mirror for guidance as he worked his finger in and around, opening himself up.

John's mouth fell open at the sight, and he licked his dry lips before reaching down for the other bottle and squirting it into his palm. He took himself in hand eyes riveted on Sherlock as he stroked himself.

John leaned against the open door stroking himself up and down up and down as he stared into the mirror at Sherlock, watching as he stuck two fingers inside of himself and scissored them out, rolling it round and round the opening to widen it. John cupped his balls with one hand and his other flew up and down as he watched Sherlock dig the fingers deep inside. Those long clever fingers, first two and then three and then four.

"Jesus Sherlock!" John said holding himself up with one arm while he stroked his cock with his palm in the same strong movement one used to cock a rifle.

Sherlock reached his other hand back and pulled the flesh apart opening the dark hole.

"God! Sherlock, you're killing me!" John yelled. "Please!"

Sherlock turned to face the mirror and placed his forearms on the counter, pushing his arse back as he caught John's eyes in the bathroom mirror.

"Give it to me, John. I need it!" he said with his eyes half-closed. "I need it now!"

"Oh God, Yes!"

John reached out and grabbed Sherlock's waist, his cock settling in the crack of Sherlock's buttocks as he maneuvered himself into place before pushing in. They cried out together as he entered, first only the head then more as John pushed in rapid shallow thrusts, working himself inside. Sherlock moaned and cried and called John's name while John thrust in again and again, his eyes focused on the sight of Sherlock's face through the mirror.

Sherlock's red cock bobbed up and down with John's thrusts. He placed one lubricant covered hand against the mirror and pushed himself back onto John's cock. They cried out together. Then John reached around Sherlock and squeezed some lubricant' messily into his hand, spilling half on the counter, before reaching down and taking Sherlock's cock in his hand.

He closed his fingers around Sherlock narrowing as he pulled up and widening as he went down.

Sherlock's cock was long and narrow. John turned Sherlock so that he could have a better view of it in the mirror. Sherlock's mouth was spread wide now, and his moans grew deeper in a way that made John's cock start to pulse. He picked up the pace thrusting and thrusting and stroking and stroking until he came with a cry pounding even harder into Sherlock. His hands grabbing his hips again as he pushed in and pulled out, his eyes glued to the place Sherlock's flesh surrounded his. Tight, tight, so hot!

John's eyes were closed. Sherlock's flesh around him was all he had time for.

Sherlock reached down to stroke himself. He felt filled, loved. He wanted more. He wanted it all, always. He called out _"Yes, John! Yes!"_ Every time John pushed deep into him. He never wanted him to stop.

Then Sherlock came, spraying the cabinet with a stream of white as his knees sunk under him. John wrapped his arms around his stomach and held him up as he shivered and shuddered to completion, his head falling down onto the cool marble counter. His hair rubbing against the mirror as he was spent.

John held him close. Sherlock could feel John’s seed inside him.

John lowered himself to his knees pulling Sherlock against him as he sat on his heels with Sherlock in his lap. Sherlock's head fell back into the crook of John's neck, and John smiled as he saw the love mark that he had made bright and red on Sherlock's neck.

His cock slid out of Sherlock then spilling his come across his thighs. It dripped down onto the tile floor, but he didn't care.

John stroked Sherlock's chest. Sherlock was breathing deeply, sweat glistened on his chest under the bright bathroom lights. Sherlock's eyes were closed, but he was smiling.

"What is it?" John asked.

Sherlock's smile grew wider although his eyes remained closed as he said, "You think that was good? You're going to have to work a little harder before you can claim to be the best. I know that I can do better."

John’s hands clutched him tighter and he growled, "I'd like to see you try."

"Oh you will, you will!" Sherlock said his arms straying back to squeeze John's buttocks.

 

Both of them turned their heads at the sound of the front door opening. They faced the hall, but they could no more rise to their feet then than fly.

 

"Sherlock, John, are you here?" Molly asked.

 

She walked into the hall, groceries in her hand and froze as she spied them sitting on the bathroom floor, lubricant and semen covering the counter, floor and cabinets.

 

"I see you've been busy." Molly said with a smile. "Good news, I'm three weeks pregnant!"

"Three weeks?" Sherlock scrambled off of John, "Then whose is it. Is it mine? Please don't tell me it's Mycroft's."

"Of course it's not Mycroft's! But we'll have to wait to know more. I can't have an amnio for months now."

"So it's over," John said pulling himself to his feet by the door handle. "No more Friday meetings."

"Oh, I don't see why not?" Molly said. "I'm only in the first trimester, I can still have sex, and when it's too uncomfortable for me, I will still enjoy watching."

"Molly, you are an exceptional woman! I can't wait to see what our child will be like."

"Children," Molly said. "I've decided that I want two, a boy and a girl. You'll help, won't you?"

"Of course!" Sherlock said.

John put his head into his hands.

"I'll start on dinner. The two of you can shower and clean the mess you've made of the bathroom. Then we can start thinking of baby names."

"How about John!" John said.

"Sherlock!" Sherlock interjected.

"I have a feeling it's going to be a girl," Molly said.

"But Sherlock is a girl's name," Sherlock said, and John laughed and laughed.

He had never been more happy.

 

**THE END**

 


End file.
